After the Storm
by rivendellelve
Summary: After Nate tried to sacrifice himself for the team Eliot has some serious words with him. Sequel to Desperate Measures. Though if you read the A/N you don't need to know it


_Disclaimer: Still don't own Leverage._

_A/N: Written as a sequel to "Desperate Measures" because Twinchy asked for it (and bribed me with some virtual cookies. I loooooove cookies.) _

_The team had been captured and the mark had offered Nate to spare their lives if he killed himself. Nate accepted but luckily the gun jammed and Eliot broke free and did some ass-kicking._

_Now you're all caught up. On with the story._

**After the Storm**

"So?" He briefly wondered if that was what a hellhound sounded like. Growling right behind you. In the dark. Just before it dragged you to hell. If he hadn't known that particular dog for quite a while Nate would've mistaken the growled word for a death threat and not a question that roughly translated to `The heck were yer thinking back there?´

Slowly he turned around, glass of whiskey halfway to his lips, and spotted the hitter standing just a few feet behind him. Guy was way too stealthy. But two could play this game.

"So?" He asked instead. Not willing to give in just that easily.

The hitter moved to the chair across from him, leant back and just stared at the older man, unblinking. Not being able to maintain eye contact Nate took another sip from his glass mentally running different scenarios to escape what he knew was coming. Short of faking his own death (and not showing up at his own funeral because he wasn't Sophie) they all ended with Eliot ambushing him when he didn't have a glass of alcohol as his defense.

"What was that?" The hitter asked. Sounding deceptively calm. A sure sign something was wrong. He had a suspicion.

"What was what?"

"The stunt you pulled back there!" Apparently Eliot's patience had run out. "What did yer think yer were doing, huh? What could possibly have made it a good idea-" The younger man leapt from his seat, index finger raised accusingly at the other. "to just go an' kill yerself?!" He had started pacing now. Nate let him. The alcohol making his mind numb and slow. He tried not to stare at the bandage around Eliot's wrist, knowing that it had his plan that had failed and got his team captured. Knowing it had been his plan that had forced their retrieval specialist to cut himself. Knowing it –

His musings were cut short when the hitter roughly grabbed his collar with one hand and forced him against the back rest knocking the glass away in the process.

"Answer me!" He suddenly found himself on the receiving of a full-on Eliot-glare, his mind abandoning him for a second to make room for the little monkey that left the trees thousands of years ago and learnt to fear the lions. Then the hitter backed off and Nate found he could breathe again.

"Did you at least have a plan, Nate?" The anger was gone, replaced with tiredness. The eye of the storm.

"I was protecting the team."

"Pro- Protecting the team?" The growl was back. "How is killing yerself protecting anyone! Think that guy would've just let us walk away? Huh?! Think he was an honorable man and all that? The hell you were protecting the team! And while we're at it-" Eliot's voice had escalated to a shout by now. "Protecting the team is MY job!" He stood there panting, trying to get his breathing under control, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Nate was too tired for this. Deciding to die for his team and then surprisingly being still alive hours later would probably tire anyone out. He rubbed his face.

"Then what was I supposed to do, Eliot? Let him kill you? All of you?"

"No. You were supposed to trust yer team. Trust me." The hitter looked at him again. Though there was no anger this time. Worse, he saw disappointment in the other man's eyes. Not unlike the look Eliot gave him when he started drinking again. Nate became deeply interested in the floor.

"Listen Nate," the hitter's voice was uncharacteristically gently. "You don't have ta talk to me. But sort yerself out. I can't protect the team – _including you_ – if I have ta worry 'bout you jumping in front of a train or somethin'."

Grabbing the bottle on the table Eliot walked out of the room leaving Nate alone with his thoughts.

**The End**

_A/N: So, that's it folks. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Mr. Plot Bunny might even share some of his cookies with you._

_PS: If you're looking for more - check Gorgolo chick's "For I have sinned". "Desperate Measures" is based on it and I imagine it takes place some time after this fic.  
_


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